


Arms Without Feathers

by BingeMac



Series: Quidditch League Fanfic Competition [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, One Shot, The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 19:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18880018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BingeMac/pseuds/BingeMac
Summary: Draco joins Scorpius on a summer field trip to a potions farm.(Round 3 of QLFC Season 7. Go Kestrels!)





	Arms Without Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- QLFC, Kenmare Kestrels, Beater 1, Round 3
> 
> Main Prompt- The Rags Sharki of Egypt; write about a character who comes to respect someone they didn’t previously.
> 
> Additional Prompts- 1. (song) Demons- Imagine Dragons, 5. (word) robust 13. (setting) on a farm
> 
> Word Count: 2987

Scorpius grinned at the vibrant red “O” at the top of his potions paper and then glanced to his left. Albus tilted his piece of parchment in Scorpius’s direction so he could see the matching grade that marked his own exam. Scorpius’s grin widened.

“Now,” Professor Zabini said once all the graded exams had been handed out. “With your final exams out of the way, it’s time to talk about next year. NEWTs.”

Scorpius’s gut twisted with excitement. He’d been longing for his chance to take the dreaded seventh-year exam like others might long for a spot on their house quidditch team or a first kiss with someone special. For Scorpius Malfoy, NEWTs were scared. He couldn’t wait to show his father the NEWT scores Draco Malfoy would never get the chance to earn himself.

“To prepare you for the difficult school year ahead, the other teachers and I were to get together and discuss a way for all of you to be active in your NEWT subjects this summer. We were told to offer something fun for you to do.” Professor Zabini paused as if the word “fun” left a foul taste in his mouth. “Well, I couldn’t think of anything, so I’m piggybacking on Professor Hagrid’s and Professor Longbottom’s field trip to Occultivation Acres. I mean,” continued the professor with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “the farm does grow and raise nearly half of the potions ingredients in Northern Europe. We should learn how those ingredient are processed before they reach our shops, right?”

Scorpius was so excited, he could burst.

“Here are your permission slips,” Professor Zabini announced. He flicked his wand and the stack of papers on his desk scattered until one was in front of each student. “We are reserved for a single day and the owners of the farm have required that each student is accompanied by one parent or guardian. So make certain your permission slip is signed by July 1st so we can send your volunteer parent their portkey. If you are taking your NEWTs in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, I’m sure you’ll hear this whole spiel again. Pretend for Longbottom’s sake that you are hearing about this field trip for the first time.” Zabini finished his speech with a final, “I hope to see you all this Summer. Class dismissed.”

Scorpius hopped up from his seat and followed Albus out of the potions classroom. Scorpius glanced elatedly down at the permission slip he held delicately between his fingertips. We he saw the date of the field trip, all the warmth left his body as if he had just been doused with an icy bucket of water.

Albus was waving Rose goodbye when he noticed the look on Scorpius’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Scorpius deflated as he looked up at Albus. “I hope you have fun without me,” he mumbled dejectedly.

Albus squinted down at the permission slip in Scorpius’s hands in confusion. “Surely your mum will sign that—“

“My mum will be in Hong Kong for fashion week,” Scorpius interrupted.

Albus muttered a quiet, “Oh.”

There was a long silence as the two boys simply stood in the hallway staring at the annoying little permission slip that once promised an adventure Scorpius had been dreaming about his whole life.

“Maybe your father will surprise you,” Albus suggested weakly.

“And maybe your father will sprout wings and fly,” Scorpius grumbled sarcastically. He stuffed the offending piece of parchment into the pocket of his school robes and leaned gratefully into the commiserating arms of Albus Severus Potter.

***

Dinner was a quiet affair in the Malfoy household the night before Astoria was to leave for Hong Kong with her sister, Daphne. 

Draco was nervous to be alone with his son after what occurred over Christmas Holiday. Apparently Scorpius had learned a few things about Draco’s past and the ensuing blow up had been one for the record books. It wasn’t until his son had returned to Hogwarts for the rest of his sixth year, that Draco realized he didn’t have a leg to stand on in this particular fight. He didn’t know what specifically Scorpius had learned about Draco’s part in the wizarding war that had occurred over two decades ago, and it didn’t matter. The rumor Scorpius had overheard at Hogwarts couldn’t have been worse than the part Draco actually had in the second rise of The Dark Lord.

Draco never should have tried to shelter Scorpius from the truth. He had only wanted his son to live a life free from the burden having a Death Eater for a father would place on him. But it had always been an eventuality that Draco’s demons would come to light. He just didn’t think he’d feel this horribly helpless and weak once they did. 

Draco listened to the clinking of silverware in the otherwise silent dining room, dreading the coming week without Astoria. His lovely wife had been acting as a buffer between the father and son with an ease that made Draco love her even more than he did before. He had thought about sending Scorpius with his mother to China, but then he’d miss out on Occulitvation Acres. Draco wasn’t going to let that happen.

Draco took a fortifying breath and audibly cleared his throat. “So,” Draco said, before finally looking up to make eye contact with the only two people in the world that mattered to him. “I was thinking we could go to Diagon Alley this weekend and get a camera—“

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Scorpius,” Astoria chastised.

“No, Son,” Draco replied, being overly polite. He sighed. “I just thought… I thought you might like to take photographs of your trip. You could have visual notes to revise for your NEWTs, and I’m sure Occultivation will allow the camera if—“

“Occultivation?”

Draco blinked and his unfocused gaze sharpened to find a look of utter confusion in his son’s gray eyes. He felt his heart break for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

“Well… yes,” said a puzzled Draco. “The trip is on Wednesday. Or did you forget?”

“But—”

“Your Uncle Blaise had me sign this ludicrous permission slip and everything. You do want to go, right?” 

Scorpius’s mouth fell open. “I thought… I thought you wouldn’t…”

Comprehension dawned on Draco and his heart broke all over again. 

Of course. Scorpius thought I wouldn’t want to go with him. I’m a monster in his eyes.

He shared a sorrowful glance with his wife and swallowed mournfully around the sudden lump in his throat.

“I see,” Draco managed to voice aloud. He closed his eyes to stave off the tears that threatened to spill and stood from his seat. “Please excuse me.”

He exited the dining room just as the first tear ran down his cheek, and he didn’t stop walking until he was alone in his study.

***

Scorpius buzzed with a nervous energy as he waited for the portkey to take him and his father to Occultivation Acres. He wore the camera his father left on his bed last night around his neck.

Scorpius spun and twisted away from Malfoy Manor to find himself arriving in a grassy field an unknown distance away. He and his father landed gracefully, which meant they both had the distinct pleasure of watching the other attendees arrive in clumsy stumbles.

One such oaf, who landed flat on his face, was Albus.

“You really are the most uncoordinated person I have ever met,” Scorpius jested fondly.

“Scor?!” Albus surged to his feet and strode over to Scorpius in two seconds, wrapping his best mate around the middle and lifting him in the air.

Scorpius laughed breathlessly. “Watch the camera!”

Albus dropped him immediately. “Sorry,” he said, taking a look at the device more closely. “It’s really nice.”

Scorpius smiled softly. “Thanks.” 

Albus glanced pointedly over Scorpius’s shoulder and the blonde spun around to find his father already talking to Professor Zabini. “So,” Albus whispered conspiratorially. “What did you say to get him to come?”

Scorpius shrugged. “I didn’t have to say anything,” he admitted. “He just… he surprised me.”

Scorpius hadn’t really spoken to his father since that night at dinner, because he honestly had no idea what to say. His feelings for Draco Malfoy were all sorts of messed up, and he knew that if he tried to express himself right now, his words would come out all wrong. He was waiting for the confusion he was feeling to go away. He hoped it happened soon.

Albus twisted around and jogged to where his father, the famous Harry Potter, was talking with Rose’s father. Scorpius watched in fascination as Albus lifted his father’s arms and examined them critically.

Mister Potter twisted around to face his son and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Scorpius heard the man ask.

“What? Oh, nothing. Carry on with your conversation.”

Albus returned to Scorpius’s side and smiled. The blonde raised an intrigued eyebrow of his own. Albus shrugged his shoulders amiably. “Just checking for feathers.”

Scorpius snorted.

***

Draco found the tour of the potions farm to be quite enjoyable. In the insect house he learned of streelers and horklumps, glumbumbles and chixpurfle. He watched an ashwinder lay eggs, only to die two minutes later. He witnessed the de-quilling of a knarl and the daily silencing charm the farm’s work hands had to place on the fwoopers.

Draco was able to ignore the not-so-subtle glances Weasley and Potter were throwing his way, because that seemed par for the course. He was usually too distracted by Scorpius’s wide-eyed passion to even notice anyone else anyway. But when they reached the greenhouses to learn about dittany and wiggentrees and belladonna, Draco couldn’t help but feel discomforted by the complete lack of hostility he was receiving from Longbottom.

Neville Longbottom was a professor, and as the man excitedly got up to wax poetic about how important bowtruckles were to the health of most wand wood trees, Draco watched Scorpius. From the way his son’s face lit up, it was clear he liked Professor Longbottom. It had never occurred to Draco, after years of being taught by the likes of Severus Snape, that Longbottom might put his childhood prejudices aside so that Scorpius Malfoy, the son of Neville’s childhood bully, could receive a proper education.

Draco’s heart clenched with sudden and excruciating respect. He escaped the confines of the greenhouse as quickly as he could. He needed to gather his bearings immediately.

He was so lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t realize the ground in front of him had suddenly sloped. He fell, snagging his robes on a tree root, and continued falling. He forced all of his magic into the tips of his fingers, incanting a levitation charm, which slowed his momentum enough to keep himself from smashing his head into the quarry below. He sighed with relief when his body landed safely on the dirt ground without further injury.

Draco laid there for a moment, his face buried in his hands, trying to stop his racing heart. He had never been so clumsy in his life.

Just as his breathing had evened out, Draco felt something sharp against the back of his head. He reared back onto his hind legs and whipped out his wand, turning around to level it at the knife wielding maniac—

“Oh, for Salazar’s sake,” Draco hissed, coming face to face with a silver-feathered hippogriff with eyes that blazed with fury at being threatened at wand-point.

Think, Draco, think. Oh gods, I just fell into a hippogriff nest. What do I do?

Draco closed his eyes and thought back to his third year Care of Magical Creatures class. 

Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do. 

Draco instantly dropped his wand and inclined his head into a deep bow. His heart beat wildly in his ribcage and he couldn’t open his eyes. He would rather not see his killer if this was to be his last breath. But after a long moment of silence, Draco realized no retaliation was to come for his lack of etiquette, and he allowed himself to wink open an eyelid. The hippogriff had bowed his head in return.

Draco’s sigh of relief was deafening after holding his breath for so long. He straightened back up and the hippogriff did the same.

If he bows back, yeh’re allowed to touch him.

“Sure, why not?” Draco voiced aloud. He held out a hand hesitantly, pleasantly surprised when the winged creature sidled closer, knocking Draco’s hand gently with his head. He let his fingers tread carefully over the silvery feathers.

An effortless smile settled onto his lips.

“Yeh want to ride him?”

Draco startled at the voice that had previously been only in his head. He looked up to find Hagrid grinning down at him from his perch atop the nest.

“Oh, um…” Draco glanced back at the hippogriff, huffing an absurd giggle. “Actually, I think I’ll leave that kind of absurdity to Potter.”

Hagrid barked out a laugh but nodded his understanding. “Yeh need help out o’ there?”

Draco picked up his wand and seriously considered just using it to apparate his way out of the nest, but decided to pocket it instead. His nerves were still a little too unstable to truly consider apparation at the moment. “I’d appreciate it,” Draco said.

Hagrid seemed surprised, but eventually leaned over the ledge and held out a robust hand. Draco hesitated for only a moment before accepting the offer. The half-giant easily lifted Draco from the ravine as if the forty-year-old wizard weighed less than a feather.

Once Draco was out of the nest, he glance back down at the hippogriff below.

“Beautiful creatures, aren’ they?”

A hint of that unbidden smile returned and Draco answered truthfully. “Yeah. They are.”

“Yeh know, tha’ one’s actually Buckbeak’s kin. Hatched ‘im right before he died, he did,” Hagrid said, his voice catching slightly as the two men made their way back toward the barn on the other side of the farm. “I had to bring the li’l one here ter be taken care of. Owners were grateful ter have a new baby tha’ the other hippogriffs would flock to ter take care of. It worked out well, I think. They said I coul’ visit anytime I wanted.”

Draco listened with an unprecedented fascination. Only when there was a natural pause, did Draco ask, “So Buckbeak was a girl, then?”

Hagrid barked another loud, boisterous laugh. “I had no idea, of course.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the ground as they continued walking. He turned again toward Hagrid and asked, “I thought Buckbeak disappeared never to be seen from again?”

Hagrid halted mid-step, so Draco did the same. “Aye,” the older wizard mumbled quietly. Under the bushy beard, Draco could tell the man was smiling. “Tha’ is what we told yeh.”

Draco’s old professor continued on and he watched as the half-giant cut an imposing figure against the setting sun. 

He got it now. He could see what Potter saw in Rubeus Hagrid. The man was a force to be reckoned with.

***

“Oh my gods, Dad! What happened to you?”

Half-heartedly dusting himself off, Scorpius’s father explained himself. “I… I fell into a hippogriff nest.” And then he started laughing and couldn’t stop.

Scorpius glanced at Albus over his shoulder in bewilderment. “Uh… Mister Malfoy,” Albus uttered hesitantly. “Do you want me to fix that cut in your robes?”

Draco couldn’t reply as he was still too busy laughing, but he nodded his head. Scorpius could only watch, baffled to see his best mate wave his wand over his father’s outstretched leg to stitch the fabric expertly back together. Suddenly Draco was no longer laughing.

“That is excellent wand-work, young man.”

Albus righted himself, his cheeks going red at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“You must get it from your mum.”

As always, Albus took no offense. “I do.”

“He does,” said Harry Potter, coming out of no where.

“Potter,” Scorpius’s father said in greeting.

“Malfoy,” Mister Potter replied.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence and then Albus turned to Scorpius and said in a spot-on impression of his father, “Malfoy.”

“Potter,” Scorpius sneered back, unable to hold back the ensuing grin that followed.

“Apparently, our children think we are ridiculous,” said Mister Potter.

“We are,” said Scorpius’s father, shrugging. Then he returned his attention to Scorpius. “Did you enjoy the rest of the tour?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“That’s good to hear, son. Well, are you ready to head back home? It appears I need a bath.”

***

After they touched down just outside the Manor gate, Scorpius immediately began to make his way up the long driveway before he realized his father wasn’t following.

“Father?”

Draco Malfoy’s light gray eyes looked at the manor in the distance with distaste. “This place is depressing without your mother here.”

Scorpius startled at the simple proclamation. 

“Let’s go to Hong Kong,” the older wizard suggested with a delighted sparkle in his eyes.

His father wasn’t the savior of the wizarding world. In fact, he had been a coward who never once fought for the side of good. No one expected Draco Malfoy to sprout wings and fly. He would always have arms without feathers.

But he was a good father who loved his wife and son. Scorpius could respect that.

Scorpius held up his camera and snapped one last picture for the day, startling his father. 

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Mum has to see you all covered in dirt.”

And your eyes were shining. I had to make sure to capture that light before it disappeared again.


End file.
